


Dr. Sexy M.D.

by Lady_Spindle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Both are human, Cas is a germophobe, Dean is a nurse, Dean is terrible at Flirting, M/M, My roommate gave me these head canons, like she doesn't even ship this, she scorns me for shipping this, so I wrote this to spite her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Spindle/pseuds/Lady_Spindle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has an MD and an MS.  And he fully intends to use ALL his medical schooling on the cutie with the GermX.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dr. Sexy M.D.

**Author's Note:**

> Chagrined doesn't begin to cover my feelings for this.

Cass sat nervously in the doctor's office, eyes darting between the various instruments tacked onto the walls.  Despite the pervasive smell of antiseptic, he couldn't help but imagine the sheer number of germs crawling over the surfaces of the doctor's office.  

He pulled out a small container of back-up hand sanitizer, fruitlessly squeezing the last couple drops onto his sanitizer-saturated palms.  Rubbing in the sharp-smelling liquid, Cass instantly swept the room for a wall mounted source of sanitation. Upon finding none, he began fiddling with the hem of his trenchcoat, wishing the doctor would show up before his illness got any worse.  It could be contagious, or it could be cancer, just like WebMD had suggested.

The door swung open abruptly, and a drop-dead-gorgeous man swept inside.  

“Are you the doctor?” Cass blurted.

“What if I said I was just the nurse?”  His eyes flickered over Cass briefly before reestablishing what would be considered proper eye contact for two professionals.  

“You don’t look like a nurse,” Cass muttered, despite his impending demise, the nurse, or doctor, or whatever, had a nice voice, and face, and pretty much...everything, so he was willing to cut him a little slack.

“Oh, sorry to disappoint, I left my sexy nurse outfit at home.”

“So you’re a nurse?”

“Nah man, I’m the doctor, Dr. Dean, not like Dean Clinic.  If I had a dollar every time someone asked me that, I might have enough to pay off one semester of med school loans…”  He trailed off when he noticed Cass was peering around the room, wildly looking for something.

“Need something?”

“Well, um, just...if you have any hand sanitizer?” He asked meekly.

“Sure, I got some,” Dean pulled a bottle out of his back pocket and handed it to his wide-eyed patient.  

Cass dubiously shook pieces of lint off the bottle before applying a healthy coat of sanitizer, with a bit extra.  Can’t be too careful with linty hand sanitizer from someone else’s pocket.

“So it says here you’re a hypochondriac.”

“IS THAT TERMINAL!?” Cass yelped.

“No it means you...when did you first start feeling ill?”

“About two hours ago.  I cancelled my meetings for the afternoon and came straight here, just to be safe.”

“Uh-huh, did you know this is your 5th doctor’s appointment?”

“This year?”

“This month.”

“But this could be the one, this could be the disease that does me in!”

“Slow down there buddy,” Dean reached out a hand to pat Cass’ shoulder, retracting it when Cass eyed his hand like he’d slathered it in cow manure.  “Taking care of guys like you is my speciality.”

“It is?” Cass sounded painfully hopeful.

“Yup, I’ve got an MS and an MD.”

“Oh, alright, should I tell you about my symptoms?”  

“Fire away,” Dean plopped into a rolly chair, prepared to listen to the guy’s rough but oddly pleasing voice.

What he got was a ten minute spiel detailing probably everything that could possibly go wrong in the human body that this poor sap thought was happening to him. All at once. Except Dean hadn’t really been...listening exactly.  Nah, he’d zoned out and focused on this Cass guy’s perfect blue eyes, and perfect messy hair, and adorable idiosyncrasies.  Oh yeah.  Dr. Sexy was gonna make a move on him.  Cass didn’t stand a chance.

“Y’know what MS stands for?” Dean asked, pretending to be smooth. A normal human being whose palms were NOT sweating.

“No”

“It stands for,” he leaned in salaciously, “Master of Sex”

Cass deadpanned him.

“Though I also have an MD.”

“Which is…?”

“Master of DICK.  Well, technically..it’s my specialization.”

Cass squinted at him, “are you...flirting with me?”

Dean’s face fell, “well um, I uh...Oh I see here you have a PhD.” He unskillfully redirected the conversation.

“I fail to see what this has to do with my terminal illness.”

“Oh, it doesn’t, I’ve just recently thought about getting the Ph D.”

“Which PhD?” Cass asked, “there are plenty to pursue.  Though I’m not sure why you’d want one since you’re already a doctor.”

“You have no idea,” Dean muttered under his breath, side-eyeing Cass in a way that was totally-not-completely-obvious.

“Isn’t this the part where you give me some kind of diagnostic?”

“I’m thinking you should go with a placebo.”

“Is that one of those experimental drugs?”

Dean paused, opening his mouth, closing it, then trying again, “ok, you definitely need a placebo, and in my professional opinion, you need to get laid.”

“The clinic is offering those services now?” Cass seemed bewildered, also he was squeezing the last drops out of Dean’s formerly-completely full bottle of hand sanitizer.  

“Believe me buddy, it can be arranged,” Dean snorted.

Just then, the door swung open and in swept a petite, red-headed lady.

“Alright Mr. Novak, what seems to be the problem today-” She stopped abruptly upon seeing Dean.

“Winchester, what are you doing with my patient?” She snipped.

“D-dr. Anna! What a pleasant surprise, I was just-”  
“Waiting room, NOW.” She motioned to the door.  

Dean rose sullenly to his feet and began shuffling to the door.

Cass watched the whole spectacle, perpetually confused brow creased in a more confused than usual manner.

“Also,” Dr. Anna added as Dean reached the door, “Intern Winchester, the fish tank still needs to be cleaned.  Chop chop.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dean grumbled through clenched teeth. He disappeared into the hallway, leaving a cloud of chagrin in his wake.  

“So then, Castiel,” Dr. Anna perched gracefully on the rolly chair, “what seems to be the problem today?”

Cass took a deep breath and launched into his spiel for the second time.  Anna chuckled softly when he was done, gave him an extra large bottle of hand sanitizer, and sent him on his way.

Dean was finishing cleaning the fish tank when Cass emerged.  He flailed instantly, heart skipping beats in ways that would make the heart monitor sound something like: beePBEepbeePBEEPbeepbEEPbeEP.  

He plopped into a seat in the waiting room, picking up the first magazine he could get his fishy hands onto.  

A shadow fell over him, and Dean pretended to be very invested in article he was reading...uh…”dealing with menopause”.

“You didn’t strike me as a Ladies Home Journal type of guy,” Cass’ rough voice pierced Dean’s futile attempts to understand hormone hell.

“I’m um. Well, my mom…” he trailed off.  GOSH DANGIT DEAN CAN YOU GET ANY LAMER his errant brain screamed.

“So…” Cass sat down across from Dean in the waiting room, “You’re not actually a doctor?”

Dean did his best to hide his face, “yeah I’m...just the intern.”

Cass hummed under his breath, “then why did you try to treat me?”

“You’re just -” Dean snatched a quick look up at Cass, his quizzical expression, head tilted to the side, it was too much, “just so freaking CUTE,” he blurted before the common sense switch in his brain could tell him not to.  

“Really,” Cass dragged out the syllables, “Then maybe I’ll have to come back for a follow up appointment, once WebMD convinces me I have cancer again.”  He stood slowly, withdrawing a card from his pocket.  “Or…” he closed the small distance between himself and Dean, pressing the card into Dean’s hand.  “We could have a private follow up”  He leaned close to Dean’s ear, voice a gravelly whisper,  “at my place, Thursday night”

Dean couldn’t move, eyes growing wide.  

Cass stood up again, smirking.  The audacity of this guy, who could smirk when Dean was still frozen.  “Don’t forget the sexy nurse outfit,” he called over his shoulder.

Dean remained mostly catatonic for a good minute before he buffered enough to process what had just happened.

He uncurled his fingers that had inadvertently clenched around the business card.  It read: Castiel Novak, PhD.  The D was circled in red with a winky face next to it.

Dean crumpled the card again, grinning triumphantly.

“Awesome.”  


End file.
